


teach me tonight

by coffeerac



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Studying, in which adam is rory and ronan is jess from gilmore girls, post-BLLB, pre-trk, u dont have to have ever seen gilmore girls to read this btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeerac/pseuds/coffeerac
Summary: It was now, finally, that Adam could see why the teachers at Aglionby gave Ronan the looks they gave him. He was fidgeting endlessly, not sitting still for more than a minute, glancing at Adam every time he turned a page, alternating between chewing on his leather bracelets, clicking his pen obnoxiously, scratching patterns into the cheap flooring with his fingernail, and doodling on his forearms. He sighed or yawned every thirty seconds, and seemed more fascinated with playing with the silver zippers on his leather jacket than with any of the work in front of him. To make matters worse, both of them had finished their coffees, which left Ronan jittery and unfocused, and Adam jittery and trying to focus but not being able to focus because of Ronan’s distractions.
 
(In which Gansey asks Adam to help Ronan study. Based off of Literati in Gilmore Girls S2e19, set between BLLB and TRK)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is based on S2e19 of Gilmore Girls, so some of the dialogue is taken directly from there. If you don't watch Gilmore Girls this will still make sense (also, pls note that Adam and Ronan are Literally Rory and Jess).

Gansey was being nice to Adam again.

Not nice in the, _Oh, you forgot to do the last math problem? Here, copy mine before class_ way, or the _Do you want the last sip of my Coke?_ way, but in the _old_ way. The way he used to be too nice to him, the way before, the way when Adam used to show up to school with bruises on his forearms that Gansey would eye with pity for a few seconds and then spend the rest of the week being overly generous about. 

This is what confused Adam, because he had no bruises, no cuts. Hadn’t had any in months, since he moved into the church. It had even been a while since the last time Gansey asked, “Are you okay?” in reference to his deal with Cabeswater, so he didn’t think it was about that, which left him at a blank, and Adam did not like being left at a blank. Gansey was always polite to everyone, especially to Adam, but this was a different type of politeness he’d never experienced before.

A type in which Adam almost felt sorry for Gansey—for reasons he didn’t really understand—instead of the other way around, for once.

All week, he had been buying Adam vanilla coffees in the morning, coming over with Nino’s to study at night, “accidentally” forgetting his warmest pair of cashmere gloves in Adam’s apartment, letting Adam sit in the passenger seat of his car on all Cabeswater-related expeditions no matter how much Ronan and Blue protested and Adam claimed he liked the backseat better anyway.

It was getting quite annoying, really.

It was snowing after school, so Gansey, of course, offered to take Adam to St. Agnes in the Pig.

“I have my own car,” Adam reminded him.

“That’s true,” Gansey said with a dip of his head, “But I’m not entirely convinced those tires are adequate enough to get you through Virginia snow.”

That, Adam couldn’t argue with. His car was crappy and flimsy and would probably combust if he stepped on the brakes a little too hard. But then again, it had snowed before, and Gansey hadn’t offered him a ride. If Ronan had been at school, perhaps he would have asked him for a ride instead, but sitting in the passenger seat while Ronan Lynch drove estimated a higher death rate than braving icy roads in his own shitty car.

So Adam slouched in the front seat of the Pig, staring out the window and absently tracing patterns on the fog with his finger. It was silent, because the radio had broken down again, and Gansey looked tense, glancing at Adam every few seconds.

When they finally pulled into the St. Agnes parking lot, Adam unbuckled and exchanged a quick fistbump with Gansey in lieu of both thanks and goodbye.

Just as he pulled the door handle to get out, Gansey said, “Hang on, Adam.”

Adam looked at him expectantly.

“I have a favor to ask you.” Gansey avoided eye contact completely.

So that would explain this week’s niceties. Gansey had begged favors off Adam before, but he’d never outright _called_ them favors. Surely he knew it wouldn’t fall to his disadvantage if a week’s worth of good deeds on Adam’s behalf piled up, with Adam doing nothing in return; after all, he’d been on the receiving end of Adam’s speeches about owing people one too many times.

“Yeah?” Adam prompted

“You know Ronan. . .” Gansey started.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Gansey, I do know Ronan.”

Gansey shot him a withering look, before continuing, “Well, the thing with Ronan is. Well. It’s more like—he doesn’t want to go to Aglionby.”

This wasn’t news to Adam, nor to anyone who had actually seen Ronan Lynch in Aglionby’s halls before, probably.

“I keep telling him, we only have a few more months. Less than a year. I mean, this semester’s nearly over! If he could just, you know,” Gansey paused to make some obtuse shoveling motion with his hands, “then he’d be fine. He’d get a diploma and be fine.”

Adam didn’t think the two were necessarily correlated, especially in Ronan’s case, but he let Gansey finish.

“The thing is, even if he _did_ want to finish the year—and that’s a big if, Adam—he’s missed so much that I’m not even sure he’d pass enough classes to graduate. So, the thing here, Adam, is that, I—well, you know, I was just wondering if—would you tutor Ronan?”

Ah. _The big reveal_ , Adam thought. Gansey thought they hadn’t been getting along lately, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know Adam had seen Ronan’s dead body just inside the doors of the parking lot they were in. He didn’t know that Adam had gotten rid of Greenmantle by making Ronan dream the unimaginable.

To Gansey, Ronan and Adam probably looked like they were fighting. It wouldn’t surprise him, anyway, since it seemed that all Ronan and Adam _did_ was fight. Adam didn’t quite know how to tell him they weren’t—how did you explain to someone you saw their best friend’s dead body and now you didn’t know how to act around each other?

It would explain Gansey’s nervousness, and, now that he thought about it, it could easily be one of the reasons why he’d been seeing less and less of Ronan this past week. He wouldn’t really put it past Gansey to attempt to interfere on Adam’s behalf and tell Ronan not to approach—or, more likely, provoke—Adam.

“Tutor him?” Adam repeated. He was mildly irritated that Gansey assumed he had to buy himself into Adam’s good graces all week for Adam to agree to a simple favor to help him out.

“Oh, not _tutor,_ per say, just—just help him study? Motivate him? Leak some Adam Parrish onto him, I don’t know.” Adam wondered what dirty joke Ronan would make at Gansey’s last comment if he were here. And then he wondered why he was wondering about Ronan Lynch in his absence.

“I know you’re busier than all of us,” Gansey continued. “If I thought this was something I could do for him myself, I’d do it. But I’ve tried. And for some reason, he _listens_ to you when you tell him stuff. I don’t mean you have to devote all your time to him, or anything, I just think that if even once you could sit him down and force something to stick, it’d help.”

What Adam wanted to say was, _I don’t think you could force anything on Ronan Lynch_.

What he actually said was, “Sure, I’ll do it.”

He was pretty sure the surprise on Gansey’s face mirrored his own. “Really?”

Adam wasn’t sure why he agreed, but then, he wasn’t sure what reason he had to say no either. Ronan was a friend. Ronan needed help, at least as far as Gansey was concerned. Adam could help him. To Adam, it was an equation that just added up.

“Yeah, man, it’s fine,” he said.

Gansey’s whole face relaxed into a smile. He clapped Adam’s shoulder and said, “Thanks, tiger.”

Adam snorted and got out of the car, poking his head back inside to reply. “Don’t thank me until it's done. I think you’re gonna have a harder time convincing Ronan of studying than me.”

Gansey looked baffled. “He already agreed,” he said, like it was obvious. “I talked to him about it yesterday.”

“Oh,” Adam said, taken aback. “Okay, well, uh. . .just tell him he can come over tomorrow, then, I guess?”

“Adam Parrish,” Gansey said, shifting the car into drive, “you are a god amongst men.”

He sped off—well, as fast as Gansey _speeds_ with three inches of snow on the ground—and left Adam wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.

 

***

 

“I come bearing gifts.” Ronan let himself into Adam’s apartment the next evening, door swinging wide open behind him, one styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand, no textbooks or school work anywhere to be seen.

Adam just stared at him from where he was sitting on his mattress. Ronan stared back.

Just like always, Ronan was the first to look away. He put down the drinks and began shucking off his long black coat, his black scarf, and the leather jacket he wore under the coat, throwing them all on Adam’s desk before sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Adam and offering him one of the cups.

Adam simply arched one eyebrow and continued staring at Ronan.

“Fuck, man, just take it.” Ronan shook the coffee at Adam, as if that would provoke the boy into complying

“Thanks.” Adam took the cup gingerly and slid to the floor next to Ronan. “Where are your books?”

“Books? Huh. Don’t know.”

“Lynch.”

“Chainsaw ate them.”

“ _Lynch._ ”

“Damn, Parrish, now you really sound like a teacher. That’s just how all of them say my name! Now do a Sargent impression.”

Adam sighed. “Look, are you gonna do this, or not? ‘Cause I have homework. Because I actually _go_ to _school_. And I have two shifts tomorrow, and I just came back from a six hour one tonight. If you’re not gonna do anything, I’ve got things to do."

He began lifting himself back up to his bed, but Ronan wrapped a hand around his ankle and tugged him back down. “Jesus, okay,” he said, actually looking guilty. “My books are in the fucking car. I’ll get them, god.”

Half an hour later, Adam didn’t think it would have made a difference if Ronan left his books in the car. They were sprawled on the floor, Adam sitting cross-legged and poring over his notes, Ronan lying on his stomach and doing anything but.

It was now, finally, that Adam could see why the teachers at Aglionby gave Ronan the looks they gave him. He was fidgeting endlessly, not sitting still for more than a minute, glancing at Adam every time he turned a page, alternating between chewing on his leather bracelets, clicking his pen obnoxiously, scratching patterns into the cheap flooring with his fingernail, and doodling on his forearms. He sighed or yawned every thirty seconds, and seemed more fascinated with playing with the silver zippers on his leather jacket than with any of the work in front of him. To make matters worse, both of them had finished their coffees, which left Ronan jittery and unfocused, and Adam jittery and trying to focus but not being _able_ to focus because of Ronan’s distractions.

Adam tried to get him on task about a dozen times, but Ronan’s attention was an elusive thing.

“Hey,” he tried again. “Explain to me what flames symbolize in the _Aenid_.”

“Flames?” Ronan asked. He turned his head from where it was tilted at a painful angle, reading the tag on the side of Adam’s mattress. “ _Scisne quantus numerus barbarorum satis est ut ipsi facem accendere possint?_ ” 

Adam rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time since Ronan arrived and swatted his hands away from his bed. “Focus, Lynch.”

“ _Focus, Lynch,”_ Ronan imitated in a high pitched voice. “Study, Lynch. Go to Aglionby, Lynch. Get a diploma, Lynch.”

Adam put his book down and looked Ronan in the eye. “Did you or did you not tell Gansey you would do this? He said you agreed to it. Were you just fucking with him, or did you just change your mind once you got here? Either way, you’re welcome to leave. Don’t know why you wasted gas coming over here, but it’s your choice.”

Ronan looked away, his ears pink, but he dragged a textbook toward him nonetheless. “Fucking whatever, Parrish,” he muttered, trying to sound unhappy about it.

To Adam, it sounded like victory.

 

***

 

Adam soon realized Ronan studying was almost worse than Ronan _not_ studying. He seemed to have realized that he actually annoyed Adam, and was now making up for it by trying to get Adam in a good mood.

He opened his history textbook to a page at random and began reading, making exaggerated _hmm_ or _ooh_ or _huh_ or _fuck Henry VIII, fucking asshole_ noises every few minutes. Adam, sleep-deprived, hungry, and exhausted, was on the verge of cracking up every time Ronan did this, so he eventually made Ronan switch to math.

He handed him his trig notes and scientific calculator and told him to do some problems while he did his own stuff. Ronan had a pencil in one hand and the calculator in the other, and was glancing between the notes and his own paper, shielded from view, writing things down and punching buttons on the calculator, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth and his brows furrowed, as concentrated as Adam had ever seen him.

“Okay,” he eventually told Adam. “Done.”

Ronan showed Adam the screen of the calculator to check his work, and it was all he could do not to burst into laughter. There were no numbers on the screen at all; instead, Ronan had typed, “SQUASH ONE SQUASH TWO SQUASH THREE SQUASH FOUR SQUASH FIVE” and so on as far down as the small screen showed.

He couldn’t help it—he let out a small laugh, which turned into a full on cackle as Ronan’s face slowly split into a wide grin. “Do I get an a-plus, Parrish?” he asked.

Adam shoved the side of his head. “Asshole.”

“Oh, come on,” Ronan continued. “This is excellent work. _Outstanding,_ I’d even say. See how I spelled out all the numbers when I could have just used the keys? I’m a fucking overachiever!” Adam was nearly bent to the floor with laughter, and Ronan continued, “Oh. Oh, I see, Parrish. You’re worried I might take your spot as valedictorian. Well, fuck, I don’t blame you. I’d be worried too, fuckin’ genius ass work on this calculator here. Put _that_ in the trophy case.”

Adam laughed again, a bright, happy thing, and Ronan’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He knew he shouldn’t encourage him, but _God_ —it was late, he was tired, and, in the end, Adam “tutoring” Ronan wouldn’t be the make or break of him not dropping out of high school.

Ronan stood abruptly, putting on his leather jacket but not his heavier coat, retrieving his keys from Adam’s desk. It wasn’t until he turned to look at Adam with his eyebrows raised that Adam said wearily, calming down, “What now, Lynch.”

“It’s time for a study break, Parrish.”

“For there to be a break from studying, you’d had to have studied in the first place,” Adam said, turning his attention back to the textbook in front of him.

Until Ronan’s boot replaced the book, kicking it out of Adam’s reach. He went to Adam’s nightstand and rummaged around until he came up with a brown coat, which he tossed at Adam as if he were a hatstand. “ _You’ve_ studied, though, and you need a break. Come on. Gelato time.”

Adam stood now, but didn’t make any move to follow Ronan to the door. “ _Gelato?_ Okay, first of all, it’s, like, thirty degrees outside.” Ronan looked unbothered by this. “Second of all, we can’t go anywhere when you haven’t done anything.”

“I can’t control the damn weather, Parrish, but I’ll study when we get back. Promise.” Ronan did not lie. “I just need this, to, I don’t know, kickstart me or whatever the fuck.”

The boys stared levelly at each other for a few moments, neither of them willing to back down. Then, as he always did when it came to being Ronan’s accomplice, Adam sighed in defeat, put on his coat, and followed him out the door.

 

***

 

Ronan’s “gelato time” turned out to be him getting three scoops of absurd flavors ( _“Really, Lynch,_ licorice _gelato? I didn’t even know that existed.” “We move further away from God’s light every day, Parrish, get used to it.”_ ) and Adam settling for a hot chocolate, refusing to succumb to Ronan’s insistency that having frozen food in freezing weather was perfectly normal.

They both took their purchases back to the car—in all the time Adam had known Ronan, Ronan had been very particular about what could enter his BMW, and food and drinks were never allowed. Adam, it seemed, was exempt from this rule of Ronan’s.

Adam, it seemed, was exempt from most rules of Ronan’s.

The gelato place was on the other side of Henrietta, and for a while, the drive back was populated only by Ronan’s horrible EDM playing softly in the background.

Adam asked the question he’d been itching to ask all evening. “Why’d you do this?”

Ronan didn’t have to ask to know what Adam was referring to. He shrugged noncommittally and said, “Gansey made me.”

Adam snorted because he knew that wasn’t true. On the one hand, Gansey had said Ronan _agreed_ to this, and on the other hand, “No one _makes_ you do anything, Lynch.”

Ronan shrugged again, then took both hands off the wheel to tilt his head at an angle that allowed him to lick the gelato dripping down his cone. Half-tempted to keep his gaze on Ronan, throat bared, licking up his cone, Adam easily reached his arm out to steer for him; they were like two working halves of one machine. One of them stops functioning, the other kicks in to work for them both.

“He thinks a few hours with you will turn me into, fuck, I don’t know, Einstein or some shit.” Ronan took the wheel back, his fingers brushing over Adam’s for a moment where he held it. Adam pulled his hand back into his lap, fingers feeling warm where they’d touched Ronan’s.

“Einstein hated school,” Adam said. But he knew what Ronan meant. Gansey didn’t see in Ronan what Adam saw. What Gansey saw was a pained boy who had lost too much, who had been turned into an echo of his old self, who slacked in everything because he didn’t have it in him to care, that would have no future unless Gansey stepped in to ensure one for him.

What Adam saw was a boy who was capable of so much, who was a _god,_ who pulled little brothers and baby birds and hand lotion out of his dreams, who couldn’t possibly be expected to be entertained by, much less focused on school, where he was on a completely different level than everyone else. For Adam, school was the end all, be all, but for Ronan, it was a mindless prison that wasn’t worth his time or attention. Adam couldn’t help but agree—when you had a mind like Ronan’s, what good was it wasted in a place like Aglionby?

“I get it,” Adam said softly.

Ronan briefly met his eyes, then said, “I know you do.” A few beats later, “It’s like, I could easily just dream myself a pencil that only bubbles in the correct answers, you know? Or a scantron with all the answers filled in. A book that tells me everything I need to know about fucking trigonometry. That’s not what it’s fucking about, though, its—” Ronan broke off and shook his head, as if he was disagreeing with himself. He’d apparently reached his word quota.

Adam wasn’t going to give the same _You have to go to college, you can do so much more, you’re not living up to your potential, what are you going to do if you don’t go to college?_ speech to Ronan he’d heard Gansey give him time and time again. What he did say, though, was, “You could do more. You could do so much. You don’t have to, and you aren’t, like, wasting potential if you don’t, but I just think that if you ever wanted to, you could.

Ronan did not say anything, and Adam couldn’t read his expression. To break the tense silence, Adam said, “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind one of those dream pencils.”

Ronan gave a small, surprised laugh. “Fuck off, Parrish, we both know you wouldn’t use it. As if it wouldn’t give the same answers you’d bubble in yourself anyway.”

Adam’s ears turned pink. For all the attention Ronan didn’t pay to schoolwork, he sure seemed to pay a lot to Adam.

Ronan opened his mouth a few times as if to speak, then closed it again. He cleared his throat before asking hesitantly, “Why does college mean so much to you? I mean, you could get a job somewhere that’s not here without a degree.” 

Adam was taken aback. He knew his answer, but it was a question he’d never been asked. “I, uh. . . it’s the only way for me. It just is. It’s been my ticket out of here for my entire life. And it’s not really about need, y’know? Like, I don’t _need_ a degree. I know I don’t. It’s like, I have to prove to myself I can get one. I know I can, theoretically, but there’s just never been any other way for me. I have to get out of here and go somewhere and do something and not come back. I have to go to an Ivy League and just. . .be more.” He winced as soon as he said the words, afraid Ronan would interpret it that he himself wasn’t being “more”. Ronan’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, and somewhere in the middle of what Adam had just said, he went rigid all over.

“So what’re you gonna do?” he finally asked. “In college?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said honestly. “Law? Engineering? Medical? I don’t know."

“All of the above?” Ronan teased.

“Shut up.” Adam nudged his shoulder, and Ronan nudged back, body relaxing.

 “Well, if anyone could do it. I think you’d make a good doctor,” he added.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Dunno,” Ronan said. “Just see you being a pediatrician or a surgeon or some shit. Like, in a white lab coat. Maybe they’d let you wear those damn coveralls in the operating room.”

“Maybe,” Adam conceded. “Either way, I still have time to decide. I just need to worry about actually getting in somewhere first.”

Ronan snorted. “Worry? _Worry?_ Parrish, I swear, if you don’t get in anywhere you want to, no one will. And anyone would be a goddamn motherfucking idiot not to accept you to their fancy ass schools. And you know what, I’ll help you practice all your career options to give you even more of a head start, fucking nerd. Starting tomorrow, you’re gonna build me a ramp to the moon, and, uh, I’ll let you operate on Sargent or Dick instead of me, but as far as, like, lawyering and shit, let me tell you, you’re not easy to beat in an argument.”

Adam smiled and sipped his hot chocolate, nearly forgotten in his hands. “Okay,” he said simply.

“Good,” Ronan said back.

They were approaching St. Agnes, and Ronan’s hands tensed slightly around the wheel. Adam didn’t miss the way he slowed down, going from twenty miles over the speed limit to ten miles under as soon as the church came into sight.

“You did say you’d study when we got back,” Adam reminded him.

“I did,” Ronan said, then turned to look at him. “When we got back.”

Adam stared. Ronan stared back.

“So I could just pull into this parking lot, we could go inside, you could use waste your breath and energy trying to teach me and shit, _or,”_ Ronan said, “I could make a left up here, and then we’d just be going in circles for a little while.”

Adam stared. Ronan stared back.

Finally, Adam said, “Make a left.”

Ronan grinned, a sharp and dangerous thing, but his eyes were soft and twinkling. Adam reached out and turned his music up, rolled the windows down, just to see that smile get bigger.

He turned left, and then they were going thirty, fifty, seventy, ninety miles per hour. He had circled back to St. Agnes within two minutes, and looked at Adam expectantly, waiting for the signal to go around again.

It was only after the twelfth time Ronan made that left turn that they went inside. They pretended they would study, but they did not. Ronan passed out on the floor next to Adam’s mattress, and as Adam’s drifted into unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but think that all in all, the evening had been a success, and Gansey should really ask him to tutor Ronan more often.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The question Ronan asks Adam in Latin is a Latin joke translating to, "Do you know how many barbarians it takes to light a torch?", to which the punchline would be, "One million - one to hold the torch, and the rest to get together and try to discover fire!"
> 
> Thanks for reading—leave a comment and tell me what you thought! Find me on twitter @sixofcrows and tumblr @pynchs :-)


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